


A Little Dream

by BigSciencyBrain



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: All Human AU, Copious Amounts of Fluff, Loki Feels, M/M, Steve Feels, adorableness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigSciencyBrain/pseuds/BigSciencyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being auctioned off for charity is one of the crazier things Steve Rogers has done. He's mostly sure the mysterious stranger who bid on him isn't a serial killer. Mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adamant-cap (lokkelaufeysdottir)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokkelaufeysdottir/gifts).



> A very, very belated Birthday fic for adamant-cap, who wanted some fluffy AU Stoki.

Steve Rogers bit down on a shriek when the Green Room assistant came after him armed with a spray bottle and single minded determination. "Is this really necessary?"

"It's for charity," she snapped, grabbing his arm and forcing him to stand still as she misted his bare chest and abdomen. "And you're the Fireman. You need to look the part." The nozzle of the spray bottle jabbed into his ribs, driving him back into a seat at the make-up table.

Steve winced under the continued onslaught of cold water, this time all over his head. "I've got the boots and the pants and the suspenders. Isn't that enough?"

"We all have to do our part." She pulled back, grabbing on to his chin as she surveyed her work. "I'll add some black smudges so you look like you've been fighting a fire or something."

He was going to murder Bucky for talking him into volunteering for a charity auction. It had sounded harmless enough and it was for a good cause, raising money for a kids' ward in a local hospital. It wasn't like he had exciting plans on any given Saturday night anyway, so walking across a stage a couple times and having the audience bid on a date with their fantasy fireman was still an improvement. He figured most of the audience would be older women, predominantly married, and the usual business elite, so he wasn't getting his hopes up. He'd already signed the liability and insurance waiver anyway.

While the assistant scraped at him with a make-up pad, adding fake soot and dirt on his face and body, he caught glimpses of some of the other auction personalities. They all looked equally uncomfortable being poked and prodded into a policeman, soccer player, construction worker, and other costumes; there were even a couple superheroes thrown into the mix. The only one he actually knew was Sam Wilson, who was also the only one who seemed pleased with his character. Steve had to admit Sam was amazing in the pale blue-gray, Prohibition Era suit and fedora.

Once he looked suitably fresh from a burning house, he was yanked unceremoniously from the chair and shepherded out of the Green Room into the left wing of the stage.

"You look smokin', dude," Sam whispered behind him.

Steve rolled his eyes. "At least you got a nice suit."

"Pretty smooth, huh?"

"Very Al Capone. Bucky talk you into this too?" Steve took a step forward when the policeman left the wings to make his way out onto the stage. There was cheering and a few hoots from the audience.

"You know it. But wasn't too hard a sell, you know. I'm game."

"We should've made him do it," he muttered.

He knew Bucky had declined to add his own name to the list because he was self-conscious about his missing left arm, but thinking about that would only add a layer of guilt onto everything else. The worst that could happen would be a few boring hours with someone he'd never see again. Maybe he'd get lucky and gain a new friend out of it.

"He tell you that story he read about the serial killer?" Sam whispered.

Steve glanced back over his shoulder. "What serial killer?"

"About five years ago at one of these things, some guy paid big for a date with one of the ladies. When she didn't come home on time, her roommate called the cops." Sam leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further. "Turns out the guy was some sort of freaky serial killer. Used to abduct women and strangle them. She got away and found a street cop. Papers said they think he killed at least six women before they caught him."

"Are you serious?"

Raising his right hand, Sam gave him a serious look. "Swear it's the truth. But I'm sure we're fine, you know. Serial killers are pretty rare. And little old lady serial killers? Extremely rare."

"Good to know." Steve swallowed.

"You got nothing to worry about."

He turned to face the stage, his expectations plummeting. Sam had to be messing with him, and Bucky had probably put him up to it, to ensure he'd be a nervous wreck the entire evening. Another volunteer made his way forward - the Clark Kent - and he stepped up, feeling more like he was walking the plank than participating in a charity date auction. The cheers were louder this time or he was closer to the audience, one of the two; maybe the open bar was beginning to have an effect.

When it was his turn, the Green Room assistant came down the line with a clipboard and jerked her head toward the stage. "Try to be charming," she ordered.

He caught the amused look on Sam's face before starting forward onto the stage. The lights made his eyes water and, he may have imagined it, but the shouting and hollering sounded even louder. They'd directed them all in what to do on stage so he forced a smile onto his face and started down the catwalk, waving and turning to each side. He had to make two trips down the catwalk and cross the width of the stage twice before he was supposed to stop in the box marked out with tape while the bids were taken. Two of the charity hosts and organizers were there, they were some sort of bigwigs from the hospital. It was easy enough; he didn't look too hard at the audience - he was not going to try to figure out what a serial killer was supposed to look like - and kept his smile firmly in place until he was standing in the box.

"Ladies, this handsome hunk is Steve Rogers," the announcer began.

Steve had provided the short biography for the charity staff, so he didn't listen as the announcer rattled off a few highlights of accomplishments and life goals. Bucky had added his own input, insisting that Steve was far too modest and underplayed his best qualities. He'd drawn the line when Bucky attempted to add anatomical details.

The bidding started at fifteen dollars. He was surprised when it passed fifty and completely shocked when bidding reached two hundred dollars. His cheeks felt hot and real sweat was beginning to mix with the water the assistant had added with her spray bottle. The mixture of cheering and laughter grew louder when bidding reached three hundred and fifty. Overwhelmed, Steve couldn't think of anything to do other than keep smiling and pray for it to be over soon.

"Ten thousand dollars," a voice called from the back of the room.

Even the auctioneer was stunned into silence for a moment, but pulled himself out of it. "Ten thousand once, ten thousand twice. Sold! To number forty five in the back."

Steve was too stunned to do more than stare, his feet rooted to the stage, as the winning bidder moved through the crowd to the stairs at the end of the catwalk. A man, tall and elegantly dressed in a black suit that looked more expensive than all of Steve's suits put together, took the steps leisurely. He had black hair long enough to tuck behind his ears and just a hint of curl to it. Some of the cheering in the audience turned to loud whispering.

"You don't have to do this," a voice behind him said quietly. "We'll go off stage and explain to the bidder that it violates the terms of the auction."

He glanced back, frowning, and realized that one of the charity hosts was speaking to him. "Violates the terms?" he repeated. Still stunned, he wondered if he was supposed to recognize the man walking down the catwalk or if one of the hosts did. Maybe they ran background checks on the guests and didn't allow people with criminal records to bid. Maybe he _was_ a serial killer.

"No same sex dates are allowed," the host said under her breath.

Steve managed to keep his smile in place. "It's not illegal," he said through his teeth. "What about the money?"

The host gave him an irritated look. "It's not worth the bad press the hospital might get. We pride ourselves in being an institution centered on family values."

He twitched. The hosts were already preparing to usher them both off stage, still smiling cheerful, false smiles. When he scanned over the audience, he saw a few sour faces but far more expectant, hopeful, even _pleased_ expressions. He could follow along and end up with yet another date-less Saturday night, the hospital hosts would maintain their narrow minded world view, and the charity would be out ten thousand dollars, but all he had was the few moments remaining on stage. Once they were out of the audience view, there wasn't much he could do. His decision was made the instant he looked back toward the catwalk and saw the man walking toward him; he was gorgeous.

Mouth suddenly dry, Steve left the taped box to meet the man halfway. Dark eyebrows rose, recognizing that Steve was going off script, and - Steve's breath stuck in his throat - he had mesmerizing green eyes, cheekbones that made Steve a little dizzy, and the way he moved was half strut and half challenge, as though he would look equally at home in a set of body armor as the expensive suit.

Steve held out a hand once he was close enough, shivering when long, slender fingers wrapped around his. Leaning in for what the audience would see as a hug, he ignored the sudden spike of his pulse as their cheeks brushed.

"The hosts are going to take us off stage and tell you same sex dates are against the rules," he murmured.

"Are they really?" the man asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

"Sorry. It's not my call, but I think it's a rotten thing to do." Steve pulled back, smiling again. Reluctantly, he let go of the man's hand and waved once more at the crowd before the auctioneer announced a short break, encouraging everyone to eat more food and go back to the bar for refills. The hosts were all smiles, though the one who'd spoken to him earlier was glaring daggers as they left the stage.

Back in the wings, Sam gave him a thumbs up and a high five. "You go, man. Our little Steve bringing in the big bucks tonight. Your mama would be so proud." He sniffed dramatically.

"You leave my mom out of this," Steve said good-naturedly. "All I want is to get out of this ridiculous get up." He looked around for the Green Room assistant and saw the hosts talking with the man who'd bid for him. The man looked unruffled while the hosts tried to explain. Knowing what they were discussing left a bad taste in Steve's mouth.

"The good looking ones are always serial killers."

"Very funny, Sam."

He finally caught sight of one of the assistants and wished Sam luck before heading after them. The duffle bag with his belongings was right where he left it and he claimed a pack of wet wipes to get all of the black make up off. Slipping into one of the adjoining dressing rooms, he hurriedly climbed out of the heavy fireman pants and boots. He'd never been so happy to pull on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. Shoes and socks in hand, he returned to the Green Room and found it occupied.

The man who'd bid for him was sprawled in one of the chairs, legs spread open in front of him and one arm draped over the back of the neighboring chair. His gaze lazily traveled the length of Steve's body.

"Hey. Sorry about...you know." Steve sat down and worked at his shoes and socks, hoping his face wasn't bright red.

"It was easily resolved," the man answered smoothly. "I do hope you weren't planning on going home just yet."

"Well, yeah. I mean, if they're not going to allow same sex dates, then I guess we're both out of luck."

"Merely a misunderstanding on their part."

"You're a lot more forgiving of homophobia than I am."

"My mother is on the Board of Trustees of the hospital. A phone call is all it took." He drummed his fingers lightly on the back of the chair. "I was thinking dinner. I know a lovely little place, if you care for seafood. It's quiet, secluded."

Steve gulped. He had his cell phone and he could call if -

"Seafood. Sure. Love it." He tied up his shoe laces and double checked that his phone was in his jacket pocket. "I guess I...I mean, I don't know your name."

"It's Loki."

"Unusual."

"My father is far too fond of Norse mythology." In a motion that was far too smooth to be fair, Loki stood up and slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "I hadn't intended to stay for the remainder of the event. Of course, I hadn't planned to bid on anyone either."

"You don't normally buy dates?" Steve pulled his jacket up over his shoulders.

"On the contrary, I prefer to buy them. Expectations are more easily managed when money is exchanged."

He felt unsure of his footing and Loki was almost supernaturally _everything_. Despite Sam's words nagging at him - he'd only been messing with him about the serial killer thing, right? - he followed Loki out the door of the Green Room and down the hall. It was possible he was completely crazy and completely stupid and maybe even going to end up dead in an empty field or a ditch somewhere.

"What are your expectations?" he asked.

Loki looked back, one eyebrow arched. "Concerned that you won't return home with your virtue intact?"

"My virtue hasn't been intact since tenth grade. But a first date is generally too fast for me, just...so you know."

"Do you fear waking up in a bathtub of ice with a kidney missing?" He held the outside stage door open, a smirk on his lips. "I assure you that is merely an urban legend. Nor do I need a kidney."

Steve tried to laugh. "Ten grand is a lot of money. I wouldn't want to disappoint."

"How considerate." Loki's gaze swept downward, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Very well. Should you remain clothed for the remainder of the evening, I will not be terribly disappointed. My expectation is merely an excellent meal shared with an interesting stranger."

"I'm not...really...that interesting."

"You mean to tell me the fireman get up was merely a costume?" he teased.

Shaking his head, Steve followed Loki to the valet booth. "I'm a teacher. Fifth grade. Art, history, and English." He had no idea how to interpret the look that crossed Loki's face, but it didn't look like disappointment.

When the valet returned with Loki's car, it took several seconds for Steve to register that he was staring at a black Lotus. The valet handed over the keys in a bit of a daze and Steve couldn't blame him; the car would've cost more than he made the first two years of teaching combined. He blushed when Loki opened the passenger door for him, surprised and a little touched by the gesture. Inside the car, he found himself terrified to touch anything, worrying that he was tracking dirt onto the carpet or dirtying the dark upholstery.

Loki slid into the driver's seat, which was set all the way back to accommodate his long legs. "The Ferrari's in the shop."

"You have a Ferrari?"

He grinned over at Steve. "I'm joking. One sports car is more than I need."

The whirling sensation was either in Steve's head or in his stomach and he was pretty sure it was caused by Loki's smile. "It's a step up from my Jetta, that's for sure."

"Solid, reliable, German engineering," Loki mused.

This was small talk and Steve was watching Loki shift gears with fascination. He seemed to barely touch the gearshift, which moved easily, soundlessly, and the part of Steve's brain that remembered fumbling High School make-out sessions in parents' cars was thinking about how easy it would be for Loki to reach over to the passenger seat. He squeezed his eyes shut. If he kept thinking along those lines, they might not make it to the restaurant. The nice, secluded restaurant where Steve would be alone with Loki; he had no idea if he was terrified or aroused or both.

"Are you alright?" Loki asked, making quick glances away from the road.

"Yeah." His voice cracked embarrassingly. He cleared his throat before trying again. "So, uh, I teach. What about you?"

"Trust fund brat with Daddy's money," Loki answered easily. "Older brother inherits the Empire and I'm expected to stay out of the kind of trouble that makes the family look bad."

"What kind of trouble is that?"

"Wondering if it involves hunky firemen on sale at charity auctions?"

He thought about the charity host's reaction and Loki's mother being on the Board of Trustees, wondering how far apart their social values might be. "Maybe."

"So long as I don't fuck you on the steps of City Hall, Father cares more about money than my sexual orientation. Having a queer son also gives him an angle in whatever political game he's running at the moment. Humanizes his image, as it were. Depending on who he's pandering to, he can use me to promote equality or garner sympathy for his wayward son." He spoke lightly, but the dry bitterness in his voice hinted at underlying pain.

"Sounds like you have a complicated relationship with your father."

Loki barked a laugh. "That is an understatement. What about you? Any latent Daddy issues I should know about?"

"I'm not going to call you Daddy in bed, if that's what you're asking." He was rewarded with a _real_ laugh, Loki's face lighting up with genuine amusement. Hesitating, he nearly didn't answer because he knew the answer would silence that laugh when he really wanted to hear it again. "My dad died when I was a kid. It was just mom and me until college, then I lost her to breast cancer."

Loki sobered immediately. "I'm sorry."

"I would've liked more time with them, but who doesn't say that, even when they have more time. Didn't really get to know my dad."

"Why teaching?" Loki asked.

Grateful for the change in subject, Steve talked about showing up to State college his freshman year planning to major in art and art history; young and naive, convinced that all he needed was to be happy and not thinking too much about making a living once he was through school. All that changed when Sarah Rogers got sick. He'd taken a year off to support her through chemotherapy and radiation, watched her fade away, and then buried her in time to start his sophomore year.

"When I got back, everyone on campus seemed so young. They weren't. I mean, a couple years is all the difference between us, but I felt so much older. And I started volunteering for tutoring sessions, helping out wherever I could. Kept thinking I could help. Third year, I ended up in an elementary education class looking for the credits and it just clicked for me, I guess."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Like anything, there's pros and cons. Good days, bad days. I've got a good bunch of kids this year so more good than bad."

When they pulled off of the main road and started down a narrow, wooded byway. Periodically, he could see glimpses of the bay through the trees and he wondered how far out from the city they'd gotten while he'd been rambling. The car was so quiet and so smooth that he had no sense of having traveled at all. He really hoped Loki wasn't taking him to a cabin in the woods to eat his liver.

Dusk was approaching and the extra cover of the woods made it seem far deeper into the night than what his watch told him. After one last sharp bend in the road, the trees opened up to reveal a wide view of the water, wave caps tipped gold under the sunset, and an inauspicious white clapboarded building with a wraparound porch and a long dock with a handful of moored sailboats. There were a surprising amount of cars in the gravel parking lot, though none of them were in the same income bracket as the Lotus.

Steve climbed out, watching Loki shrug off his suit coat to leave it behind in the car. "It's not exactly what I expected."

"I do hate to be predictable."

Coming around the car, Steve sniffed at the air, smelling food and forest and the distinct smell of the bay. The wood planks of the worn porch creaked under their feet, but he could tell it was lovingly and carefully maintained. He wondered how anyone found this place to begin with and then wished he hadn't wondered, because there were far too many nefarious reasons Loki could know about this place.

He couldn't quite get a read on Loki, but that was part of his appeal. The mysteriousness, the sense that much of him remained hidden and unknown; that he had undiscovered depths. He cut that train of metaphors off before they turned embarrassing.

Inside the small restaurant was equally unexpected. The nautical theme was typical, but there was an exuberance to the decor that gave the impression a room full of kindergarteners had been given a box of starfish and toy boats to play with. The usual paintings of the oceans and old fishing nets were strewn over the wall. Rather than dark and atmospheric, with carefully segregated tables and booths, it was brightly lit and the rows of open benches were cheerfully decorated with Mason jars full of daisies. Loki led him to the end of one bench, a spot that gave them a window view of the bay. There were no menus that he could see and he tried to glance over the dishes the other patrons had to get an idea of the food choices.

"Loki!" came a booming voice. A big man, with a ruddy beard that fell halfway down his exceptionally large middle, came through the door leading to the kitchen. "The special?"

"For me and my guest," Loki answered. "Any seafood allergies?"

"No." Steve felt dwarfed by the giant man. He had visions of platters with fish heads and jellyfish.

The man clapped Loki on the back - it looked like it might've hurt - and grinned broadly at Steve. "I heard you caught yourself a prize at the auction tonight, Loki. Is this him?"

Loki scowled. "No doubt Sif dragged hers out of the hall by his hair."

"The Superman, I believe." With a wink at Steve, the large man headed back to the kitchen, greeting and laughing with other customers along the way.

"My brother's ex was also there tonight," Loki offered in explanation, sounding irritated.

"And you knew that guy? Is he the cook?"

"We grew up together and he owns this place." Loki paused. He unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "That's not why I brought you here though. Volstagg has the best blue crabs on the eastern seaboard."

Steve shrugged a shoulder. "I figured you just needed a good place to dispose of a body. And since there's no menu, I'll take your word on the crabs."

Brows furrowing for a moment, Loki frowned. "A body...oh." A sly smile spread over his lips. "I suppose I could be a serial killer for all you know. Do I seem dangerous to you? Do I exhibit any of the usual characteristics of a serial killer?" He gave Steve a look that might have been intended to be innocent, but only made Steve's stomach flutter with nervous butterflies.

He cleared his throat before trying to answer. "I read that Ted Bundy could be quite charming."

Eyebrows raised, Loki settled his elbows on the table, intertwining those long fingers together and resting his chin on the backs of his knuckles. "Am I charming, Mr. Rogers?"

He was in so much trouble.

Even the way Loki was moving his hands was erotic; the barest hint of teeth was visible between his teeth, which only made Steve want to reach out and run his fingertips over Loki's bottom lip. That thought cascaded into wondering what kissing Loki would be like and he was mentally picturing them both naked - that lean, taut body beneath him - in a matter of seconds. His cheeks burned while the rest of his blood went rushing between his legs and his formerly comfortable jeans began to feel several sizes too small. As discretely as possible, he shifted on the bench and tried to find a more comfortable position. From the slow, lopsided smile Loki gave him, he knew exactly what Steve was doing.

"So," Loki began, turning his gaze to the window. "Selling yourself to questionable men at charity auctions. Is that your typical Saturday night?"

 _It would be if you were the one buying_ , he thought. "Usually I'm home with my TiVo and a quart of ice cream. What about you?"

"Luring unsuspecting victims into my bed." His eyes sparkled with humor.

"Ha ha. And then you strangle them?"

"Only if it gets them off and they ask very, very nicely." Loki inclined his head slightly to the right. "Interesting that you chose strangulation as a modus operandi. Does that mean you like or dislike erotic asphyxiation? If a first date is too soon for sex, is it too soon to discuss sexual preferences as well? Perhaps we should exchange safe-words sooner rather than later."

Steve's jeans were going to be very uncomfortable if their conversation kept going along those lines. He was either saved or damned when the enormous owner with the unusual name returned to plunk a six pack of Stella Artois down on the table.

"You want a real beer, just say so," Volstagg said gruffly. "Loki's the only one who likes his watered down to nothing."

"Your palate lacks the ability to discern subtleties." Loki plucked out two of the bottles and popped the caps, placing one on the table in front of Steve. "And if you get him drunk, I might take advantage of him. Wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you?"

Volstagg roared with laughter. "In that ridiculous toy you call a car? There isn't even a real backseat."

Lips almost touching the bottle, Loki flashed a smile. "Are you suggesting I simply bend him over the table instead?" Volstagg merely laughed harder at Loki's suggestion and left to check on the other patrons, chuckling as he went.

Steve reached for the beer and started drinking, hoping it would ease some of the heat in his face. The beer was going to go straight to his head; he hadn't eaten since lunch and that had been hours ago. Loki was drinking leisurely - positively indecently - and watching Steve with a bemused expression.

"Well then?" he asked. "Sexual preferences?"

"Um." He took another swallow of beer and cleared his throat again. "I'm, um, I'm not really, uh...well. I guess I'm good with whatever. Or, you know."

"If I knew, I wouldn't need to ask." Loki smirked. "Why don't you tell me? In great detail. Exactly what you would like me to do to you." By the time he finished, his voice was nearly a purr and he was leaning forward slightly. "Hypothetically, of course, since this is only a first date."

There were a dozen things, a hundred things, even, and Steve nearly bolted from the table to escape the heat in Loki's gaze. As his nervousness began to ramp up to panic, Loki reached out and touched the back of his hand with his fingertips. It wasn't a caress, merely a brush, and he let his thumb slide down the side of Steve's index finger ever so lightly.

"I've been too forward and made you uncomfortable." Loki gave him a sympathetic smile, his demeanor shifting to attentive concern. "Forgive me."

Suddenly, Steve wished he was more like Bucky. Because Bucky would've had a snappy comeback loaded with innuendo. Bucky knew how to banter and nothing threw him; unlike Steve, who turned into a tongue-tied mess when anyone so much as glanced his way.

"I really...really want you," he blurted out. "I don't do hook ups and you are trouble with a capital tee but I'm ready to say fuck it and go home with you right now."

Loki's eyes widened. His throat moved as he swallowed. "We should eat."

The nervous heat in Steve's face cooled, only to be replaced with embarrassment. Of course, Loki probably enjoyed the challenge of pursuing someone, the thrill of the chase, always wanting what he couldn't have even more because he couldn't have it. And if Steve had been smart - Bucky was going to laugh himself blue in the face over this - he would've played it cool. He turned his attention to the beer bottle, pretending it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Maybe all Loki was looking for was a hook up. Buying a date at a charity auction wasn't something Steve had ever considered doing so he had no frame of reference. He barely knew anything at all about Loki and he'd gone from thinking Loki might want to eat his liver to practically throwing himself at Loki in the space of an hour.

Volstagg saved him from further embarrassment by arriving with an enormous pot of freshly steamed blue crabs and a basket of hush puppies. He handed over plates, smaller bowls of dipping sauces, and a basket of wet wipes and napkins. "Eat up, lads!"

Cracking open the soft shell crabs and scooping out the meat soon occupied all of Steve's attention. None of the sauces were labeled but Loki quickly pointed out which flavor was which; the black ginger sauce turned out to be Steve's favorite. Sauces and crab juiced covered his hands past and the napkin he'd tucked into the front of his t-shirt look like a Jackson Pollack by the time he waved off another pot of crabs, pleading inability to eat another bite.

"Those were amazing," he told Volstagg when he came out to clear away the plate piled high with crab shells. "Loki said you had the best and he wasn't kidding."

Beaming, Volstagg dumped the shells into an empty pot. "Thank you! Loki doesn't often bring his lovers here. In fact, you're the first."

Loki choked on his beer, coughing and turning red.

"Oh, we're not," Steve hurried to explain, shaking his head.

Volstagg gave Loki another bone jarring slap on the back and then winked at Steve. "You should drink more carefully, my friend. I will be sure to tell Frigga of your young man."

"Don't you dare," Loki said hoarsely.

"I fear your mother's wrath for not telling her far more than I fear yours for doing so." With another wink and a hearty laugh, Volstagg returned to the kitchen.

Loki drained the rest of his beer before speaking again. "I should've taken you somewhere else."

"I wasn't exactly dressed for a five star restaurant." He motioned to his clothes. "Besides, she already knows it was for a good cause. No strings or expectations attached. And there are worst things to blow ten grand on, right?"

Loki rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "She'll be picking out china patterns by noon tomorrow."

"Gee, your mom wants you to be happy. Must be pretty terrible for you."

Loki winced. "Steve, I..."

"That was a bad joke, sorry." He scrubbed at his fingers with a wet wipe. "Did it work?"

"If you intended to make me feel like an utter jackass, then yes, it worked."

He tried his hand at peacemaking. "Awkward first dates aside, the kids still benefit so it's a win. And everyone loves a good, bad date story anyway." Loki was looking at him strangely so he shut his mouth and kept scrubbing at his already clean fingers with a napkin.

There'd been no sign of a bill when Loki stood up, nodding toward the door. "I should get you home. It's late."

"What about the check?"

"Taken care of." Car keys jangled in Loki's hand.

Steve hurried after him, a little disappointed they were leaving and kicking himself for ruining any might-have-beens with Loki. At least he'd gotten to ride in a Lotus, which was probably going to be the one and only time in his life. Back in the car, Loki switched on the stereo and Steve was surprised to hear Ella Fitzgerald coming from the speakers.

"Not what you expected?" Loki asked, glancing away from the road for a moment.

"You haven't done anything I expected so far, why stop now?"

"Since your expectations were along the lines of Hannibal Lecter, I'm not entirely certain that's a compliment."

He sunk down in the seat a little further. "So, you like old school jazz. What else are you into?"

By the time they pulled up to the curb outside the reception center where the auction had been held, it was nearly midnight and Steve knew that Loki liked mint chocolate ice cream and mojitos, preferred the Caribbean over Hawaii and the city over a rural countryside, had hated little league baseball but excelled in swimming, and had taken years’ worth of piano lessons at his mother's insistence. There was fondness in his voice when he spoke about his mother that wasn't present in the sparse mentions of his father; Steve knew when to leave well enough alone. Loki had a brother and they'd been close once; he was full of childhood tales of adventure and trouble, but nothing that seemed more recent than the rowdy teenage years.

"Thank you, Mister Rogers," Loki said as he leaned back in the seat, letting the car idle.

"Mister Rogers wore sweaters and was everyone's neighbor. I'm just Steve."

"Well then, just Steve. I had a lovely evening."

Steve very much doubted that. "Hope it was worth the money." He was pretty sure it hadn't been.

"As you said, it's for a good cause so a win for everyone." It was clear Loki was trying to end the date as gracefully as possible, which made Steve feel like more of an idiot.

"I guess I'll see you around." The goodbye sounded even lamer than it had in his head.

He climbed out of the car and shut the door, turning around to wave. It wasn't until Loki's tail lights disappeared around the corner that he remembered he'd gotten a ride with Sam. He hadn't thought to mention it and Loki hadn't asked if he needed a ride home, probably assuming Steve had driven to the venue. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he started the long walk to the house he shared with Bucky. Halfway there, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Sam's face flashed up on the screen when he pulled it out to answer.

"Hey man, where are you?" Sam asked. "You get some?"

"I can't believe you're even asking that question."

"Hope springs eternal, even for your sex life." A pause. "So, did you?"

"We had dinner. That was all." He wasn't about to explain that it had seemed like Loki was into him, but then he'd opened his big mouth and Loki had done a one eighty to not interested at all.

"Nothing? Not even a good night kiss? Peck on the cheek?"

"He was very respectful," Steve said tactfully.

"Respectful," Sam repeated, dubious. "Dude, I know who you left with. You don't wanna kiss and tell, that's fine, but I'm supposed to be your best friend." A voice in the background shouted something unintelligible. "No, I'm his best friend. You're the friend who signed his ass up for the gig."

"Is Bucky home?" He picked up his pace. Sam and Bucky in the same geographic location tended to end in calamity. "How'd your date go, Sam? You're back pretty early." There was laughter in the background, unmistakably Bucky's.

Sam's voice was muffled. "Hey, come on. Not cool, man. That's my mother you're talking about."

He grinned at the thought of Darlene Wilson marching up on stage to claim an evening with her boy, no doubt telling him all the while that she'd had to because he never came to visit and didn't call nearly as often as he should. The thought made the entire evening seem worth it and he wished he'd stuck around. "Sorry I missed it."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam sighed. "You got to walk off stage with Loki freaking Laufeyson and I got hauled off by my mother."

The name seemed vaguely familiar, although it might have been the way Sam emphasized it, as though Steve should have known who Loki was. He shivered a little. "Oh, and Sam? He drives a Lotus."

"Are you kidding me? Damn it, Rogers! Which one? What color was it?"

"Evora, black with leather interior. Smooth as a cloud. Yes, it was every bit as amazing as you think it is." He thought of Ella Fitzgerald and Louie Armstrong singing _Dream A Little Dream_ , and how he hadn't even gotten Loki's phone number. Of course, Loki probably would've blown him off if he'd asked.

"Tell me you did not screw up my chances to get a ride in that car."

He hesitated, not wanting to answer that. "It wasn't like it was a real date, you know."

Sam sighed. "He totally screwed it up."

"Sam," Steve protested. He turned down his street, already looking for the lighted windows of home.

"Did you even get a phone number? Email? Anything at all?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes. You can make fun of me then." He stuffed his phone back into his pocket, hurrying the rest of the way to the front steps of their rented bungalow.

Sam was waiting in the doorway at the top of the steps, holding two shot glasses of pale gold liquor. "Consolation shots," he said as he handed one of them over.

"I don't need-"

"Bottoms up."

Pulling a face, he gulped down what was definitely cheap tequila and handed back the shot glass, only to have Sam trade him for the second. He rolled his eyes but downed that one too, giving it back as he walked into the entry way and shed his jacket.

Bucky was sitting at the computer desk. He spun around, holding up a glossy magazine. "Our little Stevie. If there was one guy on the planet who had no idea what he was walking into, it's you."

"What are you talking about?" He trailed off when he saw Loki's face staring up at him.

In fact, he was suddenly looking at a lot more than Loki's face. He was shirtless beneath a black suit coat and there was a tie draped loosely around his neck, long dark hair falling into his face even though his head was tipped back to expose his neck. The byline was something about stepping out of the shadows. He grabbed the magazine as he sat down, flipping open the pages. There were more pictures of Loki; he was completely naked in the two page photo, like a centerfold with only a strategically placed hat. He was smoking a cigarette in the image, curls of smoke rising out of his mouth in a way that made him look like a dragon; an incredibly hot and terrifying dragon.

Sam patted his shoulder. "He had no idea who Loki was."

"I still...don't." He tried to read the text, although it was hard to pull his gaze away from the provocative photos. "Is he some sort of model or something? This says he's making a name for himself, but," he stopped, finally stumbling onto a section that talked about Loki's career. In the interview, he'd laughed off former classmates at MIT describing him as 'ruthless' and 'cold as a snake'. "He founded a tech company, some sort of robotics or cybernetics. And he bought a hockey team?"

"Bought his brother's hockey team," Bucky corrected. "And even you haven't been living under a rock big enough to not know who Thor is."

His brain couldn't reconcile the blond behemoth known for his temper on and off the ice with the brother Loki had talked about. In fact, he couldn't reconcile any of it, including why Loki was posing naked for a magazine. There were a few quotes about Loki being openly pansexual; he'd asked the photographer to approach the shoot with the same level of visual objectification that female subjects were typically given, hence the nudity. That was very much Loki, but the way he was looking at the camera as though ready to devour whoever was behind it was nothing short of frightening.

"So what happened? No chemistry? He did pay ten thousand dollars and then spirited you away into the night. I was assuming." Sam gestured toward the magazine. "Man gets around."

It was as nice a spin as any to put on Loki's response to the interviewer about his reputation for playing the field extensively. Steve shoved the magazine away.

"Not that Steve would notice someone flirting with him if you put up a neon sign," Bucky scoffed.

"I noticed, okay?" He raked his fingers through his hair. "I thought things were going, you know, maybe...in that direction. And then he just sorta turned off. I guess. I'm no good at this kind of thing."

"Ouch." Sam went for the bottle of tequila and refilled the two shot glasses. "Any idea what flipped the switch for him?"

"I told him I wanted to go home with him." Tequila burned all the way down and he was starting to feel the first two shots. "Before that, he was pretty heavy into the innuendo, you know? And not subtle at all, so yes, I noticed. Then, nothing. Actually apologized for being too forward or something." He waved vaguely toward the magazine. "I didn't even know any of that stuff."

Bucky left the chair and came back with another shot glass. "His loss, man. Doesn't even know he's missing the best guy in the city."

"Thanks, Buck."

"Movie night!" Sam settled on the right while Bucky slid in on Steve's left. "What've you got squirreled away on the TiVo? Anything that isn't about ancient aliens or leftover from Shark Week."

"What's wrong with Shark Week?" Steve asked, feigning indignity.

"You gotta get out more, Steve."

**

A month later, Steve found himself staring at another photograph of Loki. This time he had a black eye, butterfly bandages on his left temple and cheek, and the all caps headline was shouting about a brawl in one of the VIP boxes during a baseball game. He skimmed the article; Loki and his brother Thor had gotten into an argument and ended up throwing punches. There was a picture of Thor on the following page, but if Loki had managed to hit him, it wasn't visible.

"I see your boyfriend made the news." Bucky leaned back against the counter beside Steve, water bottle in hand.

He flipped the paper closed. "Don't you have work to go to?"

"Got the night off. What do you say...you, me, and Sam. Get a few drinks, hit a club. Maybe even find you a nice boy to take your mind off."

"If you need a DD."

"What I need is for you to relax. You're stress cleaning."

"I am," he started to protest, but realized he'd been scrubbing at the same spot on the kitchen counter for the past minute. "Not."

"I'm texting Sam right now." Bucky went for his phone.

There was no point in arguing with Bucky once he'd set his mind to a night out, so Steve played along. He changed clothes - twice - and ended up in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, dark blue Henley that felt a little too tight in the shoulders and biceps, but Bucky said that was the point. Sam and Bucky argued about which club to go to for three blocks before deciding.

It was early. The crush of college students was just beginning to trickle in and they didn't have to wait long for a place at the bar. Sam and Bucky made it easy to laugh, letting their joking and conversation roll around him. He stuck with beer and shrugged off the teasing about not choosing anything harder. One out of the three of them needed to stay sober enough to remember how to get home again. He ordered fried mozzarella sticks and chips as well, and chatted with a couple of the waitresses as they shuttled drinks back and forth from the bar to the booths and tables. When music started in the other sections of the club, the vibrations and muted sound carried through the whole structure of the building.

While Sam and Bucky debated going back to dance, a man who looked like a heavyweight boxer approached the three of them. "Which one of you is Steve Rogers?"

Steve raised a hand. "Is there a problem?"

"You've got an invitation to join a private party." The man jerked his head toward the stairway that lead to the row of private rooms overlooking the dance floor. "Just you."

"Um, thanks, but I'm here with my friends."

Bucky clapped his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Oh no. You are not turning this down. At least go check it out. "

"Bucky."

"My friend is accepting the invitation because he actually wants to live a little for a change," he told the man, pushing Steve toward him. Sam cheered him on, raising his glass in a toast.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Sam called after him.

Rolling his eyes, Steve followed the man up the stairs. He'd been in this section once for a Bachelor party, but that was his sole experience. The level of sound increased with each step, until the bass felt like it was reverberating in his chest when they emerged on the upper landing. He wanted to ask the man who'd sent him, but decided against shouting over the noise; he'd find out soon enough. He ducked through the door when the man opened it and stopped in his tracks, nearly getting hit as the man closed it behind him and left him alone in a private room with Loki Laufeyson.

"Fancy meeting you here, just Steve."

Loki grinned at him from the wide, cushioned bench in the back. He looked casual, a white vee neck t-shirt beneath a dusty grey jacket and dark blue jeans, black boots showing beneath the cuffs. He was wearing large, aviator style sunglasses even though the lighting was lowered, and his words were slurred, undoubtedly due to the nearly empty bottle of vodka on the low table in the center of the room.

"Loki, hey. I...uh...it's good to see you."

"Drink?" He held out a shot glass and vodka sloshed over one side.

"I'm good, thanks."

Loki hummed. His tongue swept out over his bottom lip. "You're more than good. You are...you are....something." Pushing up from the cushion, he wavered a little on his feet before starting toward Steve. More vodka spilled out of the shot glass as he came closer.

"I think maybe you've had plenty." Steve caught his hand and gently tugged the glass from his fingers, setting it down on the table.

"Or not enough." Loki pushed him back against the door and his hands settled on Steve's waist. Breath tickled over the side of his neck. He smelled like a distillery and a cigar shop combined, though not entirely unpleasant. "You are impossible. Gorgeous and impossible. You can't even be real. Did they make you in a lab or something?"

Laughing awkwardly, Steve tried to extricate himself but Loki was having none of it. "Maybe we should sit down."

"Shoulder to waist ratio of a fucking dorito," Loki murmured against his jaw. He wasn't kissing or licking, just nuzzling against Steve like an affectionate pet. "And that ass. Oh my god, that ass. So fuckable." His hands slid around to grab Steve's ass, pulling their bodies together and making Steve catch his breath. "Let's fuck. I wanna fuck you. God, I want that ass."

"And you are really, really drunk." Steve forced himself to ignore the way Loki was beginning to grind against him.

"Or you could fuck me. I'd like that too. You wanna fuck me?"

He yelped when Loki's teeth closed on his earlobe. "How about I get you home instead?"

"Mmm. I want you now. Right now."

His face was beginning to feel warm and the traitorous voice of his libido didn't think it was such a terrible idea. Patting gingerly at the pockets of Loki's jacket, he found a wallet and slim piece of paper that turned out to be a valet ticket. "I'm going to take you home. I'll drive. Come on."

Loki gave him such a ridiculous pout that he barely kept a straight face. "Why can't we fuck now?"

"Because there isn't a bed in here." He watched as Loki looked around the room, clearly trying to process the concept of a bed and decide if he thought they actually needed one. The bench was probably wide enough; he tried not to think about what they could with a little creativity. From the way Loki was swaying, he didn't think sex was really in the cards.

"Alright," Loki said finally.

Steve kept one arm around Loki's waist and opened the door. The man who'd come to get him was still standing outside and Steve realized he must be a bodyguard. "I'm going to take him home, if that's okay."

The man frowned. "I'll handle him."

"He's taking me home," Loki slurred. "Don't argue."

"I don't want you to get in any trouble," Steve said quickly. "I just want to make sure he gets home safely."

Loki leaned forward conspiratorially. "We're going to fuck. In a bed." He laughed, slinging an arm around Steve's shoulders.

After a moment, the bodyguard turned toward the stairs. "I'll take care of the bill. There's a GPS in the car, tell it to go home."

"Thanks." Face burning, Steve helped Loki down the stairs, hoping Sam and Bucky didn't see them, and out of the club to the valet stand near the parking lot. While they waited, Loki kept nuzzling and rubbing up against him, one hand permanently settled on his ass.

"You are so hot," Loki told him for the hundredth time.

"You are so drunk."

"So hot."

"Uh-huh." He caught Loki's wrist when he reached for the zipper of his jeans. "No bed, remember? Just a little bit longer, okay?"

Loki groaned. "I don't like waiting."

"I can tell." He was grateful when the valet finally pulled up in the Lotus and handed over the keys. Getting Loki into the passenger seat was like trying to handle a human sized block of jello, but he managed to get him belted in with some coaxing and promises he wasn't too worried about keeping. "You tell me if you need to throw up, okay? I'll pull over."

Waving him off, Loki's head lolled to the side. "'m fine."

"Sure you are." He slid behind the wheel and adjusted the seat for his shorter legs. The engine came alive with a rich purr. Looking around, he couldn't see anything that resembled a GPS unit. "Where's the?"

"Car, go home," Loki said. A display screen in the center of the dash console came to life, showing a map of the city and calculating a route to their destination.

"That's pretty cool." He made note of the first several turns before checking his mirrors, identifying all the controls, and pulling away from the curb. The car drove even smoother than he'd imagined and accelerating felt impossibly easy. It wouldn't be hard at all to find himself well over the speed limit before he even noticed.

"You never told me your safe word."

He glanced sideways at Loki. "Are we going to need a safe word?"

"You could tie me up. Punish me for being bad. I'd like that. I have been very, very bad. You should punish me. You're a good boy, aren't you, just Steve? I think you are. You look like a good boy." He grinned, wide and lopsided. "Mine is pineapple."

"Pineapple?"

"There's a story." Loki sighed, sinking back against the seat. "Not important."

"I'd like to hear it." And he wanted keep Loki talking.

Swiveling his head around, Loki eyed him with drunken speculation. "Can I blow you now? That doesn't need a bed."

"I need to pay attention to the road."

"I like you, just Steve." Loki grinned at him. He leaned closer, one hand slipping between Steve's thighs and sliding up to palm his crotch. "Just Steve. Dorito Steve. Cool Ranch Dorito Steve."

It was impossible not to smile at Loki turning into a giggling five year old after drinking a bottle of vodka. Thankfully, Loki's level of inebriation meant he couldn't manage the coordination necessary to do too much with his hand between Steve's legs. It was enough to get his attention and the heat through his jeans felt good, but he wasn't at risk of driving off the road because of it.

"I think I'll like you even better naked." Loki gave a contented sigh, humming a little as he pulled away to roll down the window and extend one arm outside of the car. He made a waving motion, fingers cutting through the night air. "I wanted to call you. But I never get what I want."

"I would've liked that."

Loki didn't continue, his gaze focused outside the car. The GPS took them onto a coastal road that wound in and out of the forest, revealing glimpses of the Bay and gradually climbing to the top of a long bluff. There were several hairpin curves; Steve slowed the car well below the posted speed limit as he navigated the turns.

"Steve," Loki began, his voice strained. "I think...going to be sick."

"Got it."

He eased the car onto the side of the road and hit the hazard lights before putting it into Park. By the time he made it around to the other side of the car, Loki was already opening the door. They made it a couple feet before he started throwing up. He was surprised Loki had lasted through that many of the twisting curves before the vodka came back for revenge.

"Sorry," Loki said hoarsely.

"It's okay. Worst is over now." He rubbed a hand lightly over Loki's back and helped pull his hair away from his face. "Feel better?"

"Uh-uh."

He waited, holding Loki's hair while he continued to retch. Finally, Loki straightened up, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth, and started toward the car. He was unsteady, holding onto Steve for support as he got into the passenger seat, and he let Steve buckle him back in without protest.

Back on the road, he glanced over periodically to see if Loki was still awake and breathing. The last curve took them away from the cliffs and into the forest for nearly a mile before it opened up again. A long, dark drive led to the house, if it could be called a house instead of a palace, and was marked by a security gate. As he slowed, looking for an intercom or guard of some kind, the gate began to open to let them through. Another quarter mile brought him to a circular stone driveway in front of the brightly lit entrance. At the top of a set of half-moon steps was a man in a suit, his dark skin making him stand out against the pale stone of the enormous home.

Steve parked the car where it seemed logical and stuffed the car keys into his pocket. Getting Loki out of the car went easier than getting him in. Loki didn't seem to be up for walking and sagged against Steve after only two steps; he took a calculated risk before bending down to lift him up in a fireman's carry. Loki only giggled.

The man standing guard at the front door gave them a once over, not bothering to hide his disgust for Loki's current condition. "I trust you found him in a gutter somewhere, with the rest of the trash. I will take him from here."

Steve shied away and prayed Loki would keep his mouth shut. "We're good. If you could just point me in the right direction."

Amber eyes narrowed. "Very well. Take the hallway to your right and continue all the way to the end. It will be the last door on the left. I will ask that you not wander outside the bedroom and that you take your leave before dawn."

"Heim-dall," Loki sing-songed behind Steve's back. "He's not a hooker. He's just Steve. He's a good boy. And a dorito. Aren't you, just Steve?"

"Last door on the left. Thanks." He headed inside before Loki could add more fuel to the fire.

"Sorry." Loki's voice was muffled. "He's used to hookers."

"Guess you weren't joking about that part."

"I never joke about hookers."

He wondered how far the hallway could possibly go. With Loki draped over his shoulder like a sack of flour, it was harder to pay attention to the art and decor of the home, but he had the impression of money on a scale he could barely imagine. The air even smelled like money, or what he thought it might smell like if used as an air freshener. The last door on the left was ajar, so he didn't have to fiddle with the doorknob and try to keep Loki in place at the same time. Small mercies. Inside, he made his way by the light of a small desk lamp and located the bed. It was low to the ground, the surrounding frame sleek and minimalist. He had to kneel before he could ease Loki down off of his shoulder and onto the bed without simply dropping him.

"You need to drink some water. Where should I go?"

Loki waved vaguely. "Kitchen."

"That guy...Heimdall? Didn't want me wandering around."

"My kitchen, silly."

Glancing around, Steve realized there was a kitchen through one of the doorways behind him. "You have your own kitchen?"

"This is my wing," Loki answered, as though that made it obvious.

He found a case of bottled water in the fridge, along with enough booze to open his own bar, and returned with two bottles. Loki was still lying where he'd left him, legs half off the bed. "Can you sit up? Just drink one, okay? I'll leave the other one here for when you wake up in the morning."

Loki sat up with a struggle, but managed to hold the bottle of water mostly on his own. "Really wanna fuck you, but...there's not..."

"Don't worry about it." He left the second bottle on the bedside table. While Loki sipped at the water, he carefully untied his shoes and set them aside, then helped Loki get his jacket off and folded it neatly over the back of a chair.

"When I..." Loki hadn't taken off his sunglasses the entire time and he winced visibly when Steve began to tug them away. Around his left eye was a dark bruise that had been barely concealed by the large aviator frames. Up close, Steve could see residual bruising on his cheek and the bridge of his nose as well.

"When you?"

"In the morning. We can fuck in the morning. When there's a bed."

"Sure. Whatever you want." He kept prompting until Loki drained the water and made a trip to an absurdly enormous bathroom, finally letting him collapse onto the bed in his t-shirt and jeans.

Loki caught his wrist clumsily. "Don't go."

"Get some sleep." He smiled as Loki hugged one of the pillows, eyes closing, and curled around it like a cat. Gently, he laid a blanket over him and leaned down to brush his hair back. It was probably the only chance he was ever going to get, so he pressed a soft kiss against Loki's temple.

Thinking to leave a note with his phone number, he started toward the desk and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. There was a figure standing in the doorway, practically filling it with his broad shoulders. A moment later, he recognized the man as Loki's brother, the hockey player, Thor. Thinking immediately of Loki's black eye, he positioned himself between Thor and Loki.

"How much does he owe you?" Thor asked, reaching into his back pocket. He sounded gruff, but not angry. Instead, Steve thought there was a weary sadness in his voice.

"I'm not...I mean, it's not. I just..." he trailed off when a tall, statuesque woman appeared behind Thor.

Thor watched him expectantly. "I'll pay you for the whole night. The legality of my brother's actions are of no concern to me. We've no intention of calling the police."

"I just drove him home!" Steve blurted out. "I'm not...whatever you think I am."

The woman stepped past Thor, smiling. "Thor, must you always assume the worst of your brother?"

Thor's eyebrows raised. "Do you expect me to say no?"

"Look." Steve held up his hands and eyed the door, trying to decide if he could get past both of them or if he should make a break for one of the windows. "I was at a club with some friends and Loki was there. He was really drunk so I brought him home. I don't even know him. I mean, we've met before. A few weeks ago. Like a blind date kind of thing, but it wasn't like that."

"You're Steve Rogers," the woman interrupted. "Aren't you?"

"Um, yes?"

Her face lit up with a wide smile. "Thor, where are your manners? Mister Rogers is a guest in our home."

Visibly relaxing, Thor shoved his wallet back into his pocket and came forward, holding out his hand. "Forgive me. Loki has kept dubious company of late, which suddenly makes much more sense, but I should not have assumed. If you would like a ride back to your friends, I'd be happy to take you. I also have friends over and you're welcome to join us. By all means, call your friends and invite them as well. It is the least I can do for the kindness you've shown my brother this night."

Shaking Thor's hand was willingly putting his hand in a vise. He wanted to ask why it mattered who he was and why they even knew his name to begin with, but thought better of it.

"I've got steaks for the grill," Thor added, smiling hopefully. "And Volstagg brought a crate of crabs. If you'd prefer."

The pieces clicked together. Loki hadn't told his family about him, Volstagg had. Expecting to hear the Twilight Zone theme song, Steve let Thor and the woman who could only be Loki's mother, Frigga, usher him out of the bedroom. He wondered about the repeated use of the word 'brother', which carried an odd weight, as though Thor was trying to convince or remind himself of the fact.

"I understand you're a teacher," Frigga said as she linked her arm through his.

He didn't remember telling Volstagg that. "Art and history mostly. I enjoy working with the kids." The way she was looking at him made him want to reach for his phone and call for back up. "Ma'am, I appreciate the generosity."

She raised her eyebrows, smiling without showing any teeth, and the expression reminded him of Loki. "I doubt Heimdall greeted you generously."

"Just a misunderstanding." The sneaking suspicion that there was something they weren't telling him kept nagging at him. They seemed far too interested in appeasing him for having spent a few hours with Loki one night. And since Loki didn't seem to have any problem paying for sex, even flaunting it, the fact that he'd paid ten thousand dollars for a bad date shouldn't have been a big deal.

The patio was an entire complex. He gaped at the staggered layers, with pools joining into other pools and wooden gazebos filled with hammocks and cushions. There was an outdoor kitchen area with a grill that would've made Sam cry tears of joy. He dug out his phone to snap a photo.

"Is it okay if I get a picture of the grill? My friend Sam would love this," he explained.

"Why not call him and tell him to come over?" Grinning, Thor led him over to join a small group of people in the kitchen area. He tugged a bottle of beer out of an enormous metal bowl filled with ice, holding it out to Steve. "We have far too much food for just us."

"Speak for yourself," Volstagg bellowed from his spot behind the grill. "Good to see you again, my friend."

Steve started through his contact list when one of the men, tall and blond but not as broad shouldered as Thor, came forward to shake his hand and offer a bottle opener for the beer.

"Fandral." He gave a mock bow with a flourish. "You've already met Volstagg and Thor. That dour gentleman in the corner with the strawberry daiquiri is Hogun and the lovely lady skewering pineapple slices is Sif. They are all dreadfully dull, I'm afraid, so I do hope you intend to invite your friend." A chunk of pineapple hit him squarely in the side of the head, but he merely laughed and popped it into his mouth.

"I'm texting him right now." Steve held up his phone.

"Excellent. More the merrier! Thor, where are those steaks you've been promising?" Fandral kept a hand on Steve's shoulder, guiding him to a wide teakwood table.

He texted Sam and Bucky, adding driving directions as he remembered them. Once they got to the bluff road, it would be straightforward, and something the size of a castle couldn't be missed. Their responses were incredulous, wondering if he was pranking them, but eventually curiosity won out. He didn't mention anything about Loki. With his phone back in his pocket and secure in the knowledge they were coming, it was easier to relax. Laughter and conversation washed over him; the group was clearly very close. Between Thor and Fandral, there seemed to be a never-ending supply of snacks and beer appearing on the table in front of him. Whatever Volstagg was cooking on the grill smelled good enough to make his mouth water.

"How do you like your steak, Steve?" Thor called across the patio.

"Medium rare, thanks." He accepted a bottled water from Fandral, along with yet another bowl of chips and salsa. "Any more of these and I won't have room for steak."

Fandral grinned at him. "That would be a travesty."

"I'll have to tough it out, I guess."

"That's the spirit! Make your ancestors proud."

"Ignore him." Sif rolled her eyes as she took a seat across the table, beer in hand. "Though Thor's steaks truly are not to be missed. They are the one thing he does well."

Thor leaned back from slate counter where he was working. "I heard that."

"I said it loudly." She winked at Steve, a mischievous smile on her lips. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Steve."

"Why do I get the feeling that everyone around here already knows me?" The beer was loosening his tongue, but he also felt good about the company as well. They seemed like good people and good friends; it wasn't hard to imagine Loki mixed in, with his quick wit and sharp tongue. He caught the look Sif exchanged with Fandral. "What? What aren't you guys telling me?"

"It's nothing," Sif said quickly.

"Come on." Steve shook his head. "You expect me to believe you guys treat everyone who brings Loki home like this?"

Fandral hmm-ed and haw-ed, finally giving a shrug and an exaggerated sigh. "Loki is, well, he's Loki. But he's one of us. Or at least he was. We knew about the charity auction and Volstagg said he'd taken you to his place for dinner."

"And I completely screwed it up. Figured he never wanted to see me again. I didn't even get his number." He wasn't going to count anything Loki had said while under the influence of the vodka. There was another weighty look between the two of them. "What?"

"Loki can be...tricky," Fandral said.

"Stubborn, self-absorbed, and vindictive is more like it," Sif murmured.

"You're still angry about that time he cut off your hair when we were twelve," Fandral teased.

"Of course I am. Now, if you boys will excuse me, I believe Thor is murdering an innocent steak."

Steve returned a nod as she left the table. "You all grew up together?"

"More or less." Fandral raised his beer. "But enough seriousness. Have you tried the waterfall yet?"

"Waterfall?"

"Complete waste of money. You must try it. Come on."

"I don't have anything." He gestured at his jeans.

"Thor," Fandral shouted over his shoulder. "Anything our friend Steve here could borrow for swimwear?"

"Check the pool house," Thor called back.

"Problem solved." Fandral motioned for him to follow.

By the time Steve found himself in a pair of brightly colored swim trunks and took his first cannonball leap off the top of the waterfall, Sam and Bucky had arrived. Someone had turned on calypso music and Thor was wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' apron, dancing around the kitchen area with BBQ tools in hand. Fandral was the next to jump, then he swam to the edge of the pool and hollered for the others to get into swimsuits and come join them. Less than two minutes later, Sam let out a shout as he came barreling over the top of the waterfall and plunged into the pool below. When he surfaced again, he swam toward Steve, grinning.

"This is insane." Sam pulled up to the edge of the pool and hoisted himself out. "If you hadn't texted, I would've beat your ass for holding out on us."

"Sam, I barely know these people," he whispered.

"Well, they are good people." Glancing around, he leaned in closer. "So, the private party at the club?"

"It was Loki." Water dripped down the back of his neck. The section of the sprawling mansion he thought was Loki's wing was dark and he hoped Loki was still sleeping. He'd barely taken a seat on the pool edge by Sam when Fandral came by with two fresh beers for both of them. "I'm pretty sure I've stumbled into an alternate dimension or something."

"An alternate dimension made of awesome." Sam accepted the beer. "Thanks, man."

Fandral winked at Steve. "Did you tell him we thought you were a prostitute?"

"What's that?"

Groaning, Steve pressed his palm against his forehead. "This is going to be the story people tell at my funeral."

"A grave mistake on our part!" Fandral's hand clapped solidly against Steve's shoulder. "Hopefully Steve has forgiven us such a foolish presumption. And I do believe Thor has finally made good on his promise of grilled perfection. Best not let them get cold."

The evening began to blur together near midnight; a comfortable haze of food, beer, and laughter. Around two in the morning, Thor insisted they stay for breakfast, and Steve, Sam, and Bucky retreated into the pool house, still wearing their borrowed swim trunks. Two of the couches folded out into sofa beds. Bucky settled into an enormous, chaise style armchair, announcing loudly that it was more comfortable than his own bed. Within minutes, Steve could hear their steady breathing and Bucky's occasional snoring.

Despite the relaxing haze of alcohol, Steve found himself staring up at the ceiling and returning to unanswered questions. It was possible that Thor and his friends took in strays like him all the time, but they seemed a closely knit group and that didn't explain the ubiquitous assumption that Loki had paid for his time. That, in itself, was unsettling. It had seemed so unexpected to all of them that anyone would be with Loki who wasn't paid to be there. There was something they weren't telling him, some piece of the puzzle that would bring the big picture into focus.

He dozed through the early morning hours, never quite settling into a deep sleep, and found himself wide awake as the sun tipped up over the horizon, still muted and filtered by the surrounding forest. There was a sound outside the pool house, rhythmic and repeatable, that he couldn't place. Groggily, he converted the sofa bed back into a couch and tiptoed into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. He was surprised to find his clothes folded neatly in a pile on a console table beside Sam's and Bucky's. From the subtle scent of lavender, they must've been freshly laundered as well.

"Magic," he murmured. Obviously, there were household fairies in this bizarre alternate reality.

He felt more awake after a shower and fully dressed. Leaving Sam and Bucky to sleep, he ventured out in search of the sound he was hearing. The waterfall had been shut off, leaving the enormous pool still except for a lone swimmer making small waves through the water. With the blur of water and the dark green swim cap, Steve couldn't be certain who the swimmer was, but his intuition leapt immediately to Loki. Watching felt wrong, as though he was intruding on whatever peace Loki was seeking this early in the morning. Thinking to return to the pool house to wait for the others to wake up, he was about to turn around when the patio door opened and Thor leaned out, grinning and waving Steve to come over. He made a wide arc around the pool, hoping not to disturb Loki, and headed into the house. Immediately, the smell of cooking bacon and coffee made his mouth water.

"He'll be in the pool at least an hour." Thor handed over a mug of steaming coffee. "Cream and sugar are on the bar, help yourself. Do you like eggs?"

"Thanks. Sure, eggs are good."

He accepted the coffee and settled on one of the benches in the largest breakfast nook he'd ever seen. There were hundreds of questions he wanted to ask, but none of them seemed polite to voice aloud; how Thor managed to be functional enough to be cooking breakfast with only a few hours of sleep was one of them. He wanted to ask about the highly publicized fight between Thor and Loki, or about why Thor had offered to pay for Steve's time the night before.

Thor interrupted his thoughts. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Over easy is great."

"Over easy it is," Thor said cheerfully. He whistled as he cracked the eggs, flipping bacon with the other hand and somehow managing not to make a mess of either.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

He remembered Frigga's question and her smile when he'd confirmed his identity. "Why did it matter who I was last night?"

Thor stilled, his back toward Steve. After several moments, he began to transfer bacon from the pan onto a plate. "I suppose it must seem strange to you. Perhaps I've gotten so used to Loki's ways that it's difficult to see anything else." He slid the eggs onto the plate beside the mound of bacon and flipped off the burners, carrying the plate with him. He set it on the table in front of Steve before he retrieved his own mug of coffee and took a seat across the table.

"Little strange, yeah." Steve chewed thoughtfully at a bit of bacon. "I had one date with Loki and I wouldn't exactly say it went well."

Thor's face turned serious, brow furrowing. A pained anger crept into his voice as he spoke. "Loki is angry and bitter, and he takes it out on those who love him. He rarely trusts anyone, certainly not enough to allow someone to get to know him well. It was not until recently that he brought men into the house like this. It's not their fault and I don't believe he has mistreated any of them, but it is," he hesitated, anger fading into concern, "it is reckless. I have no stomach to delve into the sordid details of my brother's bedroom habits, but we have grown concerned for his welfare."

Steve had assumed as much from what he'd observed of Loki's behavior.

"It was not until seeing you with my own eyes that I realized. All the men he has brought home recently have looked very much like you. Whether he is seeking to replace you or find a substitute, I don't know, but there is clearly something he cannot let go. Forgive me for my honesty. I realize this may be offensive or unsavory to you. I make no excuses for Loki's behavior, but perhaps you can find it in your heart to feel some sympathy for him."

The idea that Loki sought out men who looked like him to have sex with was disconcerting rather than flattering and it screamed a level of self-destruction and self-sabotage on Loki's part that made Steve feel sick.

"I don't know what to say to that," he finally managed.

Thor nodded solemnly. "And so you understand why none of us wanted to speak of it. He is not a bad person, he has merely lost his way."

"Do you...I mean...is that why?" He bit his lip, appetite now lost, and gestured at the plate of eggs and bacon. "Do you think I can help him? I don't know what you expect from me. Or what I could possibly do."

"No, no, not at all," Thor reassured him quickly. "You need not worry about ulterior motives. Our hospitality is freely given. Perhaps I'd hoped to convince you that Loki was not always how he is now, that he is worthy of your patience, though any expectations I might have would be purely selfish and unfair to place on your shoulders."

He tried the reconcile the Thor who'd given Loki a black eye with the man who'd welcomed a complete stranger into his home simply because Loki might like him. "I saw, in the paper, about the fight you two had a few days ago. What was it about?"

Thor looked away quickly. "In truth, it is not my story to tell. Loki and I have always fought, even in our youth, but it gives me no satisfaction or pride to admit that I lost my temper that day."

"You seem to have come out of it alright."

With a laugh, Thor pulled up his t-shirt to reveal a wide patch of dark, vividly mottled bruising over his ribs. "Loki fights dirty. Always has."

Steve winced. He'd been an only child and his closest approximation to a sibling was Bucky, but they’d never come to blows. Sam certainly had tales of knock down fights with his cousins while he'd been growing up.

"Our family must seem strange to you."

"You're not the Cleavers, that's for sure." Picking up the fork again, he dug into the eggs. There was no sense letting the food go to waste.

He figured Thor was compensating. Unable to make headway with his brother or repair their damaged relationship, the concern and care was being redirected onto Steve, somehow gaining an association as someone Loki cared about. But he'd be just as likely to do more damage by wading into the middle of the family drama, good intentions or not. All of it was far too complicated for him to wrap his head around and he could already tell he was only seeing the tip of the iceberg.

Hogun and Sif appeared while he was eating and Thor drifted away to make them eggs and bacon, as well as a stack of pancakes. The smell of food must've roused the others; both Fandral and Volstagg had stumbled sleepily into the kitchen soon after. Volstagg took over the cooking duties, while Fandral insisted that Steve go wake Bucky and Sam before Volstagg devoured all the bacon in the house. Since it gave him an excuse to walk by the pool as well, he cleared his plate and gulped down the coffee before heading back to the pool house.

The pool was empty now, with fresh, wet footprints leading away toward Loki's wing of the house. Luckily, he found both Sam and Bucky somewhat awake and alert. Sam was in the shower while Bucky was still rubbing at his eyes.

"Breakfast is on. If you want bacon, you might want to hurry." He picked up his jacket from the chair where he'd left it and felt the pockets. Sure enough, Loki's car eyes were still there. "I've already eaten."

"Damn morning people," Bucky muttered.

"Thor was up before I was."

"He's not human, man. No way." Yawning, Bucky got up from the couch and stretched out his shoulder.

"We'll head home after you've eaten." Steve was beginning to think of Odysseus; maybe he should be checking the gardens for lotus flowers. He didn't want to let his imagination get the better of him, but there was something preternaturally likable about Thor and just being this close to Loki set his nerves jangling.

"Whatever you say, lover boy."

"I'll see you in a bit." He held up the car keys as explanation before leaving Bucky to finish waking up.

The enormous house was disorienting, but he remember enough of the art on the walls to use them as landmarks and find his way back to the long corridor that led to Loki's bedroom suite. All he was doing was making sure he returned Loki's car keys; any decent person would do as much. He wasn't going to mention the fact that Loki was screwing men who looked like him. He didn't even want to look that thought in the face, because it was so far beyond weird. After he'd practically thrown himself at Loki that night, it made zero sense for Loki to reject him and then seek out his doppelgängers.

His heart was racing when he reached the door. Holding the keys tight, he rapped his knuckles twice against the door, breath frozen in his throat as he waited.

No answer.

He waited, blood thundering in his ears, long enough to be considered polite and then tried the doorknob. It turned smoothly.

"Loki?" He slipped through the door and closed it behind him. With the size of the suite, it was entirely possible that Loki simply hadn't heard him. He headed for the desk, setting the keys down gently and plucking a pen out of a metal canister.

"Leaving me a love note?"

Startled, he dropped the pen and spun around. Loki was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. There was a folded towel slung around his neck and another wrapped far too carelessly around his waist, dipping low enough in the front to be indecent.

"Loki. I...I just," he stammered.

"Right. About last night." Loki's smile didn't reach his eyes. He crossed to the table against the far wall. "Let me find my wallet."

His brain didn't seem to be working. "What?"

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Long, pale fingers flipped open a leather wallet and he pulled out several bills, folding them in half as he turned around and extended his arm. "This should be more than enough."

Steve blinked. "Are you serious?" He wondered if Loki even recognized him now.

"If you want more-"

"I don't want your money." His temper was beginning to edge out the distraction of Loki's naked body. "For Christ's sake, Loki, what is wrong with you?"

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Fine. You don't want money." He tossed the wallet back onto the table. "Then what? A fuck? Is that what you want?" The towel around his neck whispered as he pulled it away and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair. "Give or take, what’s your pleasure? Should I get down on my knees? Is that what you want?"

The desk hit the back of his thighs when he backed up and then Loki was in front of him, hands reaching for the zipper of his jeans.

Loki grinned, his voice low and husky. "That's what you want, isn't it? I thought so." 

He caught Loki's wrists. "Stop. I am saying no and I mean it. I want you to stop."

"And if I don't?"

"You know, I used to be a lot smaller." He lowered his voice. "And my mom thought it would be good for me to learn Aikido. So you can stop now and back off, or I can put you on the floor. Your choice."

Loki's eyes darted rapidly, searching his face. "You're not bluffing."

"I'm really not. I don't want to hurt you, but I will stop you."

With a shrug, Loki pivoted away and moved to the bed to sit down. Even then, he let his legs fall open provocatively. "You don't want money and you don't want a blow job. I'm afraid that's all I have to offer."

Steve crossed his arms, fists clenched so Loki couldn't see that his hands were shaking. "I brought you home last night to be nice. Because I wanted to be sure you were okay. And everyone in this damn house thought I was prostitute. Your mom, your brother. Yeah. Thor offered to pay me for my time too."

A look of bitter fury flashed across Loki's face. "How generous."

"You are completely fucked up. I get that now."

"Do you?" Loki scoffed.

"Thor told me a few other things about you too." He was surprised to see abject fear in Loki's eyes. "Like how you've been fucking men who look like me." He was more surprised to see relief.

Loki shrugged dismissively. "I have a type. Don't flatter yourself."

"You couldn't keep your hands off me last night."

"Sorry. Don't remember much."

"Are you interested in me or not?" he shouted, then wished he could've kept his voice down. "Give me a straight answer. Without all the bullshit, without all the lies. Because I think you are interested in me. And I think that scares the hell out of you. I don't know why. And I don't know why you insist on being such an asshole."

Loki looked away. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"It does. But what you want doesn't matter as much as what you do. And this? Has to stop. You don't get to treat me like this."

"Like what? You won't even let me take your clothes off," Loki snapped.

"When was the last time you got tested? How many partners have you had in the past month? Were you safe? Did you use protection? Every single time?" There was bright color beginning to appear in Loki's cheeks and spotted down his neck and throat. Steve kept going, not knowing where he'd end up but knowing he had to keep talking. "You're self-destructive and reckless and a whole lot more messed up than I even know about yet. I get that. But you don't get to treat me like I don't matter. You don't get to use me. Not in bed, not out of it. If you're not emotionally healthy enough to be with me, or anyone, right now, that's okay. But don't pretend you are and don't pretend anything you're doing is what you really need to be happy. I'm not going to settle for the scraps you throw me. So make up your mind. Do you want me enough to get it together or are you going to keep being scared?"

He grabbed the pen and the nearest piece of paper he could find, scribbling his phone number and address hard enough that the tip nearly tore through the sheet of paper. Then he tossed them both onto the desk and walked out of the room. He was too shaken and too angry to stay.

Whatever Loki chose to do now was on him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Um, Steve?" Bucky called from the front door.

"Yeah?" 

"You might want to come see this."

He shifted his laptop to the coffee table and headed for the front hall. Bucky was leaning against the doorway, hand on his hip. The steps in front of the house were literally covered with flowers. Roses, daisies, lilies; dozens of bouquets piled on top of each other and tumbling down to the sidewalk.

"They're all for you," Bucky told him.

"What?"

Bucky nodded and pointed. On the other side of the street, Steve saw a familiar black Lotus and an even more familiar Loki standing beside the car with a bouquet of red roses in his hands.

"You got this?" Bucky asked quietly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I got it." 

He tried not to step on the flowers as he made his way down the steps, briefly wondering what exactly Loki thought he was going to do with them, then realizing Loki probably hadn't thought about that at all. The realization tempered the fluttering nervousness in his stomach. He crossed the street, stopping several feet away from Loki and crossing his arms.

"Hey." Loki flashed him a smile, waving the bouquet of roses a little. "How are you?"

"I'm good. You?"

His gaze shifted back and forth between Steve and the mountain of flowers on the front steps. "The flowers were wrong, weren’t they? I fucked this up too, didn't I?"

"They're a bit much. I'm not really into grand gestures."

"What are you into? I can do...be...whatever you want."

Steve held up a hand. "If you don't realize how wrong what you just said is then I'm going back inside and you can come back when you've figured it out. Next time, just pick up the phone and call."

"I'm terrible at this, alright?" With a sigh, Loki slumped back against the car, dragging one hand through his hair. "I know I'm terrible at this."

"Have you tried just being yourself?"

"Myself is not something anyone wants," he answered sourly.

"It's what I want."

"You don't know me."

"That's kinda the point of dating someone. To get to know them. I can't do that if you're not upfront with me." He watched the inner struggle play out in the small movements Loki made, the shifting of weight from foot to foot and how his shoulders hunched up, then relaxed, only to go tense again. Gone was the too-smooth, sexually aggressive Loki from the night of the auction, he looked every bit a schoolboy called into the principal's office for misbehavior. "Tell you what, I've got some cardboard boxes I haven't recycled yet, why don't you help me do something with all these flowers? We'll go from there."

Loki nodded immediately, relief showing plainly on his face.

"Those." He pointed to the roses in Loki's hands. "Can go in water. Come on." 

He led Loki back into the house. Bucky hung back, watching Loki as though trying to decide if he needed to punch him in the face. Steve found an old vase that had been his mother's and filled it with water, taking a minute to arrange the roses as artfully as he could without trimming any of the stems. The boxes had already been flattened to be recycled and stuffed between the wall and the refrigerator. He pulled three of the largest boxes out, handing two of them to Loki to open up. 

The flowers filled all three of the boxes to overflowing. One barely fit into the ridiculously tiny trunk space of the Lotus, another wedged into the equally narrow backseat, and Steve opted to hold the third on his lap. Without revealing their destination, he directed Loki to the physical rehabilitation campus of the regional hospital. He gave Sam a heads up with a text message, not providing any details other than he had flowers and asking if they might brighten the day of Sam's clients. Loki cast him a few puzzled looks, but didn't say anything as he parked the car near the patient entrance. They carried the boxes into the lobby, Steve balancing two of them, and found Sam waiting. 

His eyebrows rose, but he merely nodded a hello. "When you said flowers, I didn't think you'd have this many. You clear out a florist or something?" 

"Something," Steve answered noncommittally. "Sam, this is Loki. Loki, Sam. "

Sam held out a hand. "Good to meet you, man."

"And you as well." Loki shook Sam's hand. "How long have you known Steve?"

A wide grin spread over Sam's face. "It's a funny story actually."

"Don't you dare," Steve said mildly. He didn't really mind and it was one of Sam's favorite stories to tell.

"Would you believe this strapping young man used to be skinny as a rail and tiny as a hummingbird? Our boy Steve couldn't even do puberty like everyone else. Oh no, he had to do it the hard way."

Steve shrugged. "I had a late growth spurt." 

"He grew eight inches nearly overnight. I was studying physical therapy and this guy comes in like an overgrown lab puppy. He kept walking into doors and banging his head. Couldn't get used to being so big." Sam ushered them into a cheery, open space with tables and chairs, directing them to the largest table. There was the subtle smell of chlorine in the air from the exercise pool. "Had to help him relearn balance, physical coordination, all that stuff. Not all that different from working through a traumatic event or accident, but a whole lot more hilarious."

"Laugh all you want, you didn't have to live through it." He could still remember the sharp pain and the aching in his bones as his body went through growth it had been putting off for nearly ten years. None of the doctors had ever been able to give him an explanation for such a dramatic delay in physical development. He'd been grateful, still was, to have finally outgrown the asthma that had plagued him since childhood.

Sam began pulling out bouquets of flowers. "Just lay 'em here and I'll put the word out. The evening shift will love you. There's a group of folks from the retirement home, come in for water aerobics. This'll make their day."

"They've got Loki to thank for it." He saw Loki look away, clearly not comfortable with taking the credit - or the blame - for the flowers.

"What's next?" Sam laughed. "Gonna go look for kittens stuck up trees?"

He watched Loki out of the corner of his eye while he spoke. "There's an art show up at the college. Thought we might wander over and check it out. Loki drove." 

"You headed back this way at all? Left my truck at the shop this morning and can't pick it up until tomorrow."

"He just wants a ride in your car," Steve whispered loudly to Loki.

Sam sighed dramatically. "Man's gotta try."

"How far is it from here?" Loki asked, looking to Steve for an answer. "To the college."

Steve did a quick calculation in his head. It was only twenty minutes on foot to the main academic campus, another five to the Fine Arts building, and it was an easy walk through residential neighborhoods most of the route. He rounded up to be safe. "A couple miles, not far."

Reaching into his pants pocket, Loki pulled out his car keys and tossed them to Sam. "It's the only Lotus in the east parking lot. Black."

"Oh no. Man, I can't." Sam looked torn, holding the keys like they were made of glass. "Are you sure?"

"Just take it back to Steve's and I'll pick it up there in a few hours."

Trying not to frown, Steve wondered at Loki's motivation. Dozens of flowers and now handing over the key to his Lotus; maybe Loki simply didn't do anything by halves. It made Steve nervous, but Sam's excitement at the chance to get behind the wheel was too much to dampen. He fixed Sam with his best stern look. "Not a scratch and no tickets."

Sam clutched the keys to his chest. "I swear on my mama's life. Nothing will happen to that car."

They left Sam walking on air in anticipation, Steve leading the way out of the rehab center and across the parking lot. The afternoon was waning into evening, drawing long shadows out over the concrete and lawn. With spring turning to summer, many of the early flowers had already given way to green while the blooms of June weren't ready to appear. Even so, he caught glimpses of color in the tree branches and bushes that lined their route. 

After several minutes of walking in silence, he voiced his thoughts out loud. "I guess it's the money. That's the difference."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a different world for you." He stopped at an intersection, eyes on the lights as they waited for the walk signal. "This'll be the only chance Sam ever has to drive a car like that. But even if he totaled it, you'd probably just buy a new one."

Loki didn't answer until the light had changed and they'd crossed the street. "I'd probably get a different car. I've had this one a year."

"And you're bored with it already." He wasn't meaning to needle, only trying to figure out how alien Loki's world view might be compared to his own. Trading in a year old luxury sports car simply because he wanted a different car was as foreign to Steve as moving to Mars.

"Everything I say is going to make me sound like a spoiled rich kid with an entitlement complex."

"Probably."

"I suppose you think my life has been nothing but smooth sailing because of it."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "You throw money around like it's water. What you do with what you have is something worth thinking about, that's all."

"What would you do with it?"

At the next intersection, he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, rocking up on his toes while they waited. "Make sure the people I love are taken care of. Travel. Help people. The usual. Beyond that, I have everything I need right now. More money isn't going to make me happier than I already am."

"Are you happy?" Loki asked, his voice nearly too quiet to be heard.

"Yeah, I am." He glanced at Loki. "When was the last time you were happy?"

Loki looked away before they started into the crosswalk and entered the grounds of the main campus on the other side of the street. It was easy to settle into silence with the energy of the nearly completed spring semester buzzing around them. Haggard looking students carried books and backpacks in and out of the library, studying for exams. The walk to the Fine Arts building was beautiful, sculptures dotting the flowerbeds and colorful chalk drawings on the sidewalks announcing study sessions and student theatre productions. 

Inside, Steve smiled at the familiar, if subtle, smell of oil paint and drying clay. He'd spent a lot of hours in this building. He'd met Bucky during a figure drawing class. After Bucky had lost his arm in a car accident, his therapist had suggested modeling for an art class as a way to accept the loss and eventually Bucky had decided to do it. Those were still some of Steve's favorite drawings; none of the other models had been as interesting, both in their shape and their ferocity. Bucky had spent hours practically daring anyone in the room to make a big deal of the smooth, rounded stub beneath his left shoulder. But he'd seen something in Steve's feeble attempt to render Bucky in charcoal, sitting at an imaginary table reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, and it had softened the hard fire in his eyes. They'd been nearly inseparable after that class and gotten an apartment together a semester later.

The primary gallery was open. He picked up a listing of the art pieces and student names in the graduate exhibit, motioning for Loki to follow. This semester's selection ranged from traditional painting and pottery to modern, stylized sculptures and a variety of mixed media pieces. 

"I don't supposed you can explain this." Loki gestured to one of the larger pieces. It was a wooden sculpture, each interlocking piece worn smooth on the edges and stained a dark honey color.

"Art isn't something you explain, it's something you experience. Something you feel."

"And how am I supposed to feel about this?"

"There's no right or wrong." He drifted toward the next sculpture. This one was a mass of black glass spikes curving up like the petals of a glistening, deadly flower.

Loki rounded the other side of the stand, his gaze traveling slowly up to the pointed tips. "I like this one."

"Somehow I'm not surprised." Catching the look, he winked. 

"It's elegant," Loki huffed.

"And will skewer anyone who tries to get close to it."

Lips twisting, Loki turned his attention to a portrait nearby. It was a young woman with cropped brown hair wearing a woolen scarf, simple but carefully rendered. "And this one? Should I be reading deeper meaning into this?"

He moved to stand beside Loki and admired the layering of color. "A lot of these are meant to illustrate the artist's proficiency at a technique. They've worked hard all year, think of this as an exam for artists. Sometimes it's just about showing what you've learned and proving you've mastered a skill."

"Do you miss it? Creating art instead of teaching it."

"I've got the best of both worlds really." Pivoting, he checked the listing for the title and artist's name as he moved to the next painting. "I love art and I get to teach kids to love art too, can't beat that." 

"If you could go back to just creating art, would you?"

He shrugged. "It's a tough business and it's hard enough to pay the rent with a quote unquote real job. Maybe when I retire, I'll get back to it."

They wandered for some time, discussion focused on various art pieces. Loki, he quickly realized, was far more interested in the craft of art itself. He asked about methods, about internal supports hidden within the sculptures and mixed media pieces; he wanted to know about the firing process for the pottery and the chemistry of the glazes. When Loki looked at the art, it was through the lens of wanting to know how art _worked_ , and he had a deep appreciation for the processes that resulted in a final product. 

Steve found himself watching Loki as much as the art. He could feel the pull of attraction, a sweet ache of longing flaring up in his chest each time their arms or hands nearly brushed. His imagination turned fanciful and painted images of holding Loki's hand as they walked, leaning in to brush a kiss against his cheek and seeing Loki smile. It was too easy to daydream about a happily ever after and forget the reality of the gaping chasm between them; flowers and an art gallery didn't mean Loki was no longer reckless and self-destructive. Any dreams or hopes of where this might lead, whether they were hot, sweat slicked nights in bed or years spent experiencing the world together, were nothing more than dreams.

Once they'd seen the entire gallery, Steve led the way through the heart of the main campus. Evening had begun to settle and the sun was hidden completely behind the rows of trees lining the sidewalks and the surrounding buildings. Although the air had begun to cool, it still held the lazy warmth of summer and he half wished he could roll out a sleeping bag in one of the wide open spaces to sleep beneath the stars. 

"Why did you bid on me that night?" Steve asked.

"You have a nice ass," Loki answered with a crooked smile.

"And you wanted to get laid."

Loki eyed him warily. "Is that going to be held against me as well?"

"Just curious. If that's what you wanted, what stopped you?"

Hands slipping into his pockets, Loki seemed to hunker in on himself as though trying to appear smaller or disappear completely. "I don't know. It didn't seem right. You were...you are...different. From what I'm used to."

"I'm not entirely sure how to take that. Since you did kinda pay for me that night and that seems to be exactly what you're used to."

"That's not." Loki sighed. "You wanted me and...and you meant it. It wasn't a game or a front or a way to make a living. It was honest. You meant what you said and you weren't trying to manipulate me or get something from me in exchange. I'm used to people who only spend time with me because I pay them or because they want to get close to Thor, who would sell their own mothers to get ahead. No one is who they pretend to be and everyone lies. That's what I'm used to."

"It must be hard for you to trust people." He resisted the urge to reach out and touch Loki. The desire to offer comfort was natural, but he wondered if Loki even knew what genuine concern and affection looked like. Reassuring Loki that he could be trusted wasn't likely to be effectual, not when Loki had years of cynicism wrapped around him like armor.

Loki cleared his throat. "I would like to try. No doubt I will fail and disappoint you, but if...if you were interested in trying."

He wanted to take pity on Loki, who was cringing with visible anxiety over what he was asking, but making assumptions wouldn't help either of them in the long run. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

"Dating. I would like to try. I mean, I would like to date you. If you're still interested."

"I am." He saw the tension fall away from Loki's shoulders. "But we take it slow. Really slow. I'd rather you not see other people at the same time, or at least be upfront about it and tell me so I know where I stand. Let's start there. We can have the safe sex conversation later. When, _if_ , we need to. Does that sound reasonable? Don't agree just because it's what I want or if you just plan on lying to me. We're going to have to learn to trust each other and that might take a while." 

"Slow is good."

The conversation was easier and lighter for the rest of the walk back to the bungalow. Steve kept clear of difficult topics, instead asking whimsical questions about favorite movies, cherished books, and longed for travel destinations. A thrill of pleasure fluttered in his stomach each time Loki laughed at a joke or comment, his bright smile softening the sharpness of his features. Again and again, the difference between the persona Loki had presented the night of the auction and the person he was seeing now struck him. This Loki was unpolished, almost stumbling over his words in his eagerness to communicate everything whirling inside his mind. His descriptions were vivid and insightful, showing a keen appreciation and hunger for knowledge; Loki wanted to know _everything_.

He reluctantly turned down his street. The black Lotus stood out against the backdrop of sensible sedans and mid-range coupes; it was parked in front of the house and appeared no worse for Sam having driven it. His desires warred against themselves. He wanted to invite Loki in; he wanted to suggest they keep walking; he wanted to back to Volstagg's restaurant and eat blue crabs with their hands. Instead, he stopped on the sidewalk, wondering if he should invite Loki inside or text Sam to ask him to come out. The decision was made by Sam, who must've been watching for them and came out to return Loki's keys, gushing thanks and praise for the car. When he went back inside, the right moment to invite Loki in had slipped away.

"Can I see you again on Friday?" Loki asked.

"Sure."

"Dinner? I can pick you up at seven."

"I'll be ready." 

Loki gave him a quick peck on the cheek, too quick for him to react before Loki was pulling away and turning toward his car. He waited until Loki was behind the wheel before heading into the house. Bucky and Sam were in the living room, studiously pretending to watch one of the cooking challenge shows on the Food Network.

"Should I expect an interrogation?" he called from the kitchen as he got himself a beer.

"We already know you can't keep yourself out of trouble to save your life," Bucky answered.

Back in the living room, he dropped down onto the couch between them. "We're gonna take it slow." 

Bucky pressed his right hand to his chest, feigning exaggerated emotion. "You think he's the one, Stevie?" 

He smacked the back of his hand against Bucky's side. "Jerk."

"Punk." Bucky grinned.

**

Thor was the only reason Steve knew about Loki's birthday.

He called Steve a week before and invited him to a surprise party, which Steve knew immediately wouldn't go over very well with Loki, but Thor wouldn't be swayed. A week wasn't enough time for Steve to put a lot of thought into a present.

"Sex," Bucky suggested over a dinner of delivered pizza. "It's been three months and you spend every weekend with him. That's not slow, that's glacial." 

"It'll happen when it's right." He didn't disagree with Bucky; he'd expected it to happen sooner too. They'd advanced to holding hands, taking the occasional nap on the couch together, and make out sessions that remained frustratingly chaste. Unexpectedly, it was Loki who seemed reluctant to pursue more and Steve was willing to be patient while he worked through whatever was holding him back. It would be that much better for waiting until they were both ready.

"It's his birthday, it'll be right."

He turned to Sam, pleading. "Any ideas other than sex?"

"A tie?"

"Really, Sam?" Bucky deadpanned. "That's a Father's Day gift, not a birthday present for someone you want to bang."

Sam shrugged. "Other than awesome cars and Steve, I don't know what the guy's into. And since Steve isn't going to be jumping out of the cake in nothing but _his_ birthday suit, I got nothing."

He saw the look on Bucky's face. "No cakes. Sam, stop giving him ideas."

"What's he gonna to do for your birthday, Mister Fourth of July?"

"We haven't really talked about it or made any plans."

Bucky finished off his pizza. "Why'd you think he didn't tell you his birthday? If he knew yours."

"I brought it up a couple times, but he always changed the subject. Got the feeling he didn't want to talk about it so I let it go." He figured there was a good reason Loki didn't like birthdays, one he would eventually, hopefully explain.

Sam hummed thoughtfully. "If he hates birthdays, might be better off not doing anything. Especially if you think Thor's party is going to piss him off. Get something as a backup though, so you're covered."

In the end, Steve found an album of Ella Fitzgerald and Louie Armstrong duets. Music was a neutral enough gift that he could pass it off as a whim and he was fairly certain Loki would enjoy it regardless of what holiday or event it ended up attached to. He opted not to wrap it, choosing a plain, dark blue gift bag that could've simply been the bag from the store. 

Only by sheer luck, or divine intervention, was he able to avoid the dilemma of lying to Loki about the party and he managed to arrive at the sprawling mansion with Bucky and Sam without spoiling the surprise. He left the gift in his car and made a beeline for Loki's room; the door was open.

"Loki?" he called.

"In here," came a muffled reply.

Anxious, he headed for the kitchen. Loki was transferring a case of bottled water from the counter to the fridge. The last time he'd gotten a look inside the fridge, it had been nearly full of liquor so he was surprised to see a lone six pack of beer amidst the bottled water and juices. He glanced out the French doors to the patio area and saw Sam and Bucky joining Thor in the outdoor kitchen area.

"So, um, I thought maybe we could stay in tonight," he said, feeling his skin crawl at the not-quite lie. 

Loki smiled crookedly as he closed the fridge door. "You can relax. Thor is not known for subtlety."

Sagging with relief, he shook his head and moved in to slip his arms around Loki's waist, pulling him close. "Sorry. I should've known you'd figure it out. Are you okay?"

"Is there a reason I wouldn't be?" His lips were soft against Steve's cheek.

He lowered his head to rest against the side of Loki's neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" He felt Loki stiffen and pulled him tighter.

"Are you attempting to hug me to death?"

"You feel good." 

Maybe Bucky was right; maybe a birthday was a good reason to test the waters and see if Loki was open to taking their relationship in that direction. If Loki did have a lot of negative feelings about his birthday, making love for the first time could be a positive. He nuzzled against the pulse point under Loki's jaw before laying a line of gentle kisses down his throat. Loki's hands settled on his shoulders, his left hand sliding to cradle the back of his head. It was encouraging; at least, Loki wasn't pushing him away.

With slow steps, he backed Loki against the fridge and let his hands fall to Loki's hips. He held back, moving over Loki's neck as though he meant to cover every inch of skin with kisses. Each brush of fingers through his hair and along the line of his neck made him shiver; heat rolled up his spine and spread out through his chest. His jeans were beginning to feel tight, cock swelling with interest. He tried to shift his hips, hoping to delay the moment Loki would _feel_ his arousal as long as possible. The curve of Loki's ass was made for his hands; he meant it to be nothing more than a playful grab, but when he slid his hands between the fridge and Loki, the motion gave him a tantalizing taste of friction against his groin. 

"Steve," Loki whispered.

He followed the line of Loki's jaw and focused on the spot just behind his earlobe, kissing and teasing lightly with his tongue. "Yeah?" 

"Wait."

Immediately, he dropped his forehead to Loki's shoulder. "Sorry. I didn't mean...I guess I got a little carried away." He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, trying to ease the hot flush in his face. Loki was still caressing him so he hadn't crossed any unfortunate lines, just come close. "Do you want to go outside? Join the others."

"There's no hurry," Loki murmured. "I'm sorry."

"No pressure." Raising his head, he pulled back enough to see Loki's face. He felt a surge of satisfaction at the blush of color in Loki's cheeks, realizing he'd been just as affected. "I don't mind waiting."

Loki glanced away, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Perhaps not too much longer."

"Like you said, there's no hurry." He brushed Loki's hair back behind his ear and gave him a quick kiss. "We're good together. And we've come a long way. Although apparently I still had to find out it's my boyfriend's birthday from his brother." Teasing, he knocked Loki's chin gently with his knuckle.

Loki's laugh sounded strained. "Boyfriend. Is that what we are?"

"Aren't we?" It had slipped out before he could think better of it.

"I...I've never." Loki swallowed, he looked uncertain. "Had a boyfriend."

"Mmm. You lucked out then."

His eyebrows rose. "Is that so?"

"I'm pretty awesome."

This time Loki's laugh was genuine and uninhibited. "And so humble."

"Well, I happen to have a pretty awesome boyfriend too. He's a little prickly, but once you get to know him." He gave Loki a slow kiss on the lips. "He's smart. Brilliant, really. He's funny. And sweet. And a little shy when it's just the two of us, which is incredibly adorable." Another slow kiss, which wasn't helping his libido cool off at all. "And he's sexy as hell. Gorgeous eyes, gorgeous everything. I think you'd like him. But hands off, because he's all mine."

"Are you happy with him? This boyfriend of yours."

"Very," he said firmly.

Loki's lips quirked. "Good. The rest of the evening might be awkward if you weren't."

"We could still stay in. Curl up with Netflix and make out until we fall asleep."

"I believe I'm expected to make an appearance at my own surprise party." Loki began to extricate himself, but caught Steve's hand and raised it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. "I promised Frigga I would behave and not spoil Thor's fun."

"He just wants you to have a good time." 

Loki didn't answer and Steve knew his mind was probably going a million different places, no matter how calm he appeared on the surface. In the past three months, he'd spent time with Loki and time with Thor, but it was rare for the two of them to be in the same room at the same time. The complexities of Loki and Thor's relationship was well beyond his understanding, and beyond being a supportive boyfriend, there wasn't much he could do. 

_Boyfriend_ , he thought, smiling. That was a pretty big step in their relationship and it had gone smoothly. Still holding Loki's hand, they headed outside to join the party.

The first hour passed uneventfully. He kept Loki in his sight, if not within arm's length, and tried to be present without hovering. Many of the usual faces were there, but it was easy to see that the group consisted primarily of Thor's friends and they were there for Thor, not Loki. He also noticed that Loki barely touched his beer over the course of the hour and filed that away to think about later. There was ample food and good music; about half of the party quickly moved to the pool to swim and splash around. 

He noticed the first signs of tension in Loki's jaw when Thor began to tell childhood stories. They were humorous for the most part and he could tell Thor was recounting his tales in an effort to draw Loki out and get him to interact. Thor loved to make people laugh and Loki's silence was probably taken as a challenge, perhaps subconsciously. The more Loki withdrew, the harder Thor tried to engage him.

"Hey, big guy." Steve stepped up to the grill where Thor had managed to corner Loki and was energetically telling everyone who would listen about a time Loki had fallen off his bike. "We're out of the IPA. Got any more?"

"I'll show you," Loki said quickly, slipping away.

Thor frowned. He glanced toward Loki's retreating back and sighed. "I've done something wrong. I do not understand him, no matter how I try."

"I've got him. Don't worry."

"Thank you."

The noise of the party faded and nearly disappeared completely when he let himself into the house. Loki had both hands against the edge of the kitchen counter, head bowed. 

"Hey." He rubbed a hand over Loki's back. "You wanna stay in here for a bit?"

Loki straightened up abruptly. "Can we leave?"

"Sure. They'll be fine without us. Do you want me to drive? I just need to let Bucky and Sam know."

"I'm...I'll drive." 

Steve fished his keys out of his pocket and set them on the counter beside the microwave. "If it gets late, they can drive themselves home. They'll probably crash here for the night anyway." A quick text message off to Sam and Bucky, although both of their phones were probably on the floor somewhere in the pool house, and he was good to go.

"Let me, I just...need my jacket. I'll meet you out front."

Whether Loki was that rattled by the party and Thor's stories, his attention was far away, leaving Steve wondering what he could do to help as he made his way through the enormous house to the front door.

"Steve," a woman's voice stopped him at the door. Frigga was coming down the grand stairs. "Leaving so soon?"

"Loki and I are headed out for a bit. Getting some fresh air is all."

"Of course." She smiled graciously. "Since I probably won't see him this evening, could you wish him happy birthday on my behalf?"

"Yes, ma'am." 

"You know," she began, tipping her head to the side as she came toward him. "You're the only thing he's ever asked me for. The night of that ridiculous auction when they weren't going to let it happen. The one time he's come to me for help. That's when I knew you were important to him."

He accepted an affectionate, if somewhat awkward, kiss on the cheek before she went her way. There was still no sign of Loki and it was a big house; he had enough time to make a quick stop and pull the small bag with the CD out of his car. He tucked the bag behind the passenger seat of the Lotus and climbed in. Maybe getting out of the house would help Loki relax and he could still turn this into a good birthday. His heart leapt when he saw Loki leave the house, a small carryon case slung over his shoulder. He didn't comment, merely smiled as Loki got into the car and tossed the bag into the backseat. 

"I thought we could go back to your place." Loki kept his attention over his shoulder as he backed out into the drive. "If that's alright with you."

"Great." He bit down on the comment that he'd put fresh sheets on the bed that morning, not wanting to be presumptuous. An overnight bag didn't necessarily mean Loki wanted to spend the night. It would be quiet there and he thought Loki needed peace and quiet more than anything. "Your mom asked me to say happy birthday. I told her we were going out to get some air."

Loki nodded, his eyes on the narrow drive leading away from the house. The sun was headed down toward the horizon and disappeared completely behind the trees once they entered the forest. The cool air smelled sweet, the scent of pine and earth mingled with the smell of the bay. He was surprised when Loki slowed down on one of the curves, where the bluff jutted out over the water, and pulled the Lotus off onto the shoulder. There was just enough space for a single car between the asphalt and the edge of the cliff. He shut the car off, sitting still for a moment before he got out of the car. Steve followed, wondering if he should be worried. Quietly, he stood by Loki's side and stared out over the Bay.

"Today isn't my birthday," Loki finally said. He stepped back from the edge of the cliff and settled on the hood of the Lotus, hands in his pockets. "I couldn't tell you when my birthday is because I don't know."

Gingerly, he leaned against the car beside Loki. "What do you mean?" 

"Today is the anniversary of the day someone left an infant in a cardboard box on the steps of Saint Mary's, wrapped in a dirty dishcloth." He pulled his hands out of his pockets, staring down at them as though they held a great mystery. "Frigga was there when the priest found the box. Found me. She convinced Odin to adopt me, brought me home, gave me a name. But they never found out who left me there or who I really am."

He reached out to take Loki's hand, squeezing gently.

"I didn't know until a few months ago. After the auction, after we met. I wasn't supposed to find out. It was an accident. I was trying to sort through some of Odin's papers and...it just didn't add up. And when I confronted Odin. I wanted to know why they hadn't told me. Why they'd lied to me for so long. My entire life has been nothing but lies." He stopped and took a deep breath. "All along, growing up in Thor's shadow, I always knew I was different. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me. Some reason I didn't belong. Why I couldn't be more like him."

Steve's heart ached. He bit his lower lip, reminding himself that Loki needed to talk until he got everything out. He'd been waiting for Loki to trust him enough to open up and this was _that_ moment. Beyond a doubt, this conversation would leave Loki feeling shaken and vulnerable.

"That's what the fight with Thor was about. The one that made the news. I was out of control and I took out my rage on him, but that only made me feel like a monster. And that night at the club," Loki's voice shook and he hunched in on himself, head down. "I thought...how easy it would be on this road. Just to keep going. Not to turn the wheel, not even hit the brakes. If I'd been drinking, who would even look twice? I thought it would be easier for Frigga. If...if she thought it was an accident."

He wrapped his arm around Loki's shoulders and pulled him close. "I've never been so glad Bucky dragged me to a club in my life. My god, Loki. I had no idea. I never would've pushed you so hard that morning if I'd known."

"I needed the push." Loki brushed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "You saved me that night. You have no idea. Steve," his voice broke.

Pressing a kiss against Loki's temple, he hugged him tighter. "We are definitely going home. Then you're going to pick a date you want to celebrate and that'll be your birthday, okay? You can have any day you want. You can even have mine and the fireworks cannot be beat, trust me."

Loki laughed shakily. Letting his head fall to Steve's shoulder, he pressed closer. "I don't deserve you."

"You deserve more than me, okay? No one gets to say differently, not even you." 

They sat together until the sun was low enough that they were fully bathed in shadows and the wind off of the Bay turned cold. Back in the car, they spoke very little for the rest of the drive, but it felt comfortable. Steve reached out often to touch Loki: his hair, his shoulder, his thigh, whatever he could reach. He was grateful things hadn't gone differently that night and he'd never look at that bend in the road the same way. The humble bungalow was a welcome sight. He hoped Loki would feel more at ease away from the mansion and Thor and everything he felt was a lie. 

"You can put your stuff in my room." He retrieved the blue bag from the back of the car, jogging up the steps to open the front door. When he checked his phone, there was a text from Bucky letting him know he'd have the house to himself for the night, along with a winking smiley face.

He pulled two bottles of lemonade from the fridge, thinking back to how Loki had barely touched his beer, and headed down the hall to the back bedroom. The light was on in the adjoining bathroom; he saw Loki standing in front of the mirror, going through a small black case. Seeing him there gave Steve a warm, buzzy feeling; he liked the way Loki looked in his space. He pulled the CD out of the bag and opened it, sliding it into the old school stereo system Bucky always teased him about. A moment later, the bright notes of a saxophone swelled out of the speakers and _Dream A Little Dream_ began to fill the room. He moved to the bathroom doorway, absently watching sort Loki through the contents of his bag; it took him a moment to realize Loki was holding an orange prescription bottle.

"Sorry." He averted his gaze quickly.

"It's...it's alright." Loki turned to face him, leaning back against the counter. He held up the bottle, shaking it a little before he tossed it into the case. "Anti-depressants. I think they're helping. It's been a couple months now."

"Good, I'm glad. I'm glad you're getting help." 

"There is one more thing I should tell you."

Steve already felt like his head was spinning. He should've known when Loki finally cracked open, everything would come tumbling out in a deluge. "I'm gonna sit down, if that's alright. I think I need to sit down." He backed into the bedroom and settled on the bed. "Okay. I'm ready. Lay it on me."

A shy smile spread over Loki's lips. He moved deliberately, stopping in front of Steve and nudging his knees apart so he could stand between them. His fingers brushed over Steve's shoulders, then slid around to cup the back of his neck. He bent down, tipping Steve's chin up with his thumbs, and kissed him. It was sweet and familiar at first, until he felt Loki's tongue brush against his lips. The embers from their earlier make out session flared in his belly, but he still hesitated to do more than let his hands rest lightly on Loki's hips. Then Loki was pushing him back onto the bed and Loki's tongue was in his mouth and his head was truly spinning now.

On his back, he succumbed to temptation and reached down to grab Loki's ass with both hands. He was rewarded with a moan and Loki's thigh slipped between his legs, pressing upwards. Eventually, he had to come up for air and broke the kiss.

"If the something else you wanted to tell me was that you want to have sex tonight, I'm all for it," he said, breathless.

Loki grinned against his lips, kissing him solidly one more time. He shifted onto his side, fingers trailing down Steve's chest to slip beneath his t-shirt. "That's part of it."

"What's the rest of it?" His groin was already short-circuiting his brain. 

Subtle red crept into Loki's cheeks, his gaze downward. "I, um, I had my three month follow up HIV test this week. It came back negative. I went in after we first started dating but I wanted to wait until the follow up. I got tested for everything else too, I mean, not just that, and...and treated. I'm clean now."

Steve wove his fingers into Loki's hair. "That's great news."

He leaned in to kiss the side of Steve's neck. "And yes, I would like to have sex tonight." 

"Anything else you wanna say? Last call before I keep you too busy to talk for a while," he teased, eyes fluttering closed as Loki's fingers strayed beneath the waistband of his jeans. 

Loki's breath warmed his ear. "I think I'm in love with you."

It felt like his heart was a solid lump in his throat. "Good," he managed to whisper. "Because I'm in love with you."


End file.
